


Never Too Much

by CydSA



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Curtain Fic, M/M, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 03:18:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/605245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CydSA/pseuds/CydSA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rufus Turner’s cabin seems like the right place for the Winchesters to heal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Too Much

**Author's Note:**

  * For [norahy](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=norahy).



> beta by Sbb23
> 
>  **Prompt used:** curtain!fics, outsider pov, and errh, porn with a side of character study. I don't have five, but, would be eternally grateful if someone do something with Sam or Jared in nipple rings, garter belt and nothing else. I hope this works for you.

Betty McLucky was in the prime of her life. Well, perhaps not quite the prime prime, what with being sixty-nine (fifty to anyone rude enough to ask, thank you very much), and a widow.

She knew a fine–looking piece of ass when she saw one though. And the two in the shop right now? Were finer than anything that had wandered through the doors in many a year.

The taller of the two was looking at bedding and the other looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but here.

“Can I help you boys?” She sidled over to them, putting on her best smile. Artie, the old goat, had taken his lunch early today and left her alone in the store. It would serve his lazy ass right if she managed to actually make a sale this month.

“No,” the uncomfortable sweetie said.

“Do you have this in king-size?” the big boy asked, indicating the set he was holding.

“I’m Betty.” She held out her hand.

“Sam,” Big Boy said and nodded at the pretty one. “And this is Dean.”

“Nice to meet you both,” Betty took the bag and looked at it. “Now, I really don’t think that this is a good selection.”

Dean frowned at her. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked. “We just need it to sleep on.”

Betty shook her head. “Honey, this here is the cheapest range we have and looking at the two of you, I reckon you need Egyptian cotton. The thread count makes it feel like you’re sleeping on a cloud.” She bustled over to the shelf where they held the good stuff.

“Egyptian?” she heard Dean hiss to Sam. “Sounds fucking expensive, Sammy.”

“Shut up,” Sam hissed back. “I’m sick of the crappy linens at the cabin. We’re stuck here for now and I’d like to not hate _every_ moment of it.”

“You moving here?” Betty asked as she rummaged through the linens. 

“Just for a while,” Sam said. “We’ve been on the road for a long time and just need a little downtime.”

“I hear you.” Betty nodded and crowed a little when she found what she was looking for. “This is just what you boys need.” She handed them pack of bedding. “Egyptian cotton, king-size and trust me, you’ll be thanking me for this tomorrow morning.”

Dean took the pack from her and blanched at the price. “I could get Baby a new set of tires for this, man.”

Sam took the bedding from Dean. “Just shut up for once and let’s get something nice.” He looked at Dean and Betty could feel the certainty of a good commission. “Please, Dean?”

Those eyes were a lethal weapon. Dean was obviously a sucker for them because he sighed and hauled out a battered wallet. “So many blowjobs,” he muttered. He blushed when Betty snorted a laugh. “Sorry, ma’am.”

She waved a hand and took the proffered credit card. “We get all sorts in here.” She headed for the till. “Live and let live is our motto in this town.”

“Did you know Rufus?” Sam asked as he leaned against the counter, keeping an eye on Dean.

“Rufus Turner?” Betty smiled. “He’s not been around here for a while. How do you boys know him?”

Sam’s smile turned sad. “We’re friends of his,” he told her. “He knew our dad.”

“Knew?” Betty picked up on the use of past tense. “Did something happen to that old coot?” 

Dean came over and nudged Sam’s shoulder. He scooted up. “He died a little while ago.” Sam sounded weary and there was something else in his tone. Something that didn’t sit quite right with Betty.

“How did he pass?” she asked.

“Heart attack.” It was Dean who replied and Betty met his gaze. His eyes warned her to leave it alone.

“Well, I’m truly sorry to hear it,” Betty said and handed Sam the slip. “Rufus was a strange bird, but he was pretty useful at keeping riff-raff out of our little town.” She looked at Dean. “He had a strange set of skills.”

Dean nodded. He got what she was saying. “Thanks,” he said and tucked the package of bedding under his arm. “He taught Sam and me some things that we’ve found pretty useful, too.”

She watched as Sam put a big hand on the back of Dean’s neck. It was comfort and habit and possession. She recognized that sort of action. It made her smile a little, even though her heart gave a little stab of hurt at the loss of a friend. “Thank you, Betty.” Sam was warm and polite. She thought that maybe he spent a lot of his time making excuses for Dean.

“Ya’ll come back now,” she told them. “We have some really nice bath sheets.”

Sam just nodded and guided Dean out of the shop. She heard Dean ask, “What’s a bath sheet? Is it a towel or a sheet?” She couldn’t hear Sam’s reply but Dean’s, “Seriously?” was loud enough to make her laugh.

******

Sam climbed into the passenger seat of the Impala and looked at Dean. “We don’t _have_ to stay here,” he said.

Dean scowled as he started the car. “Yeah, we do.” He hated admitting that they needed a break, but it felt like they’d been running on empty for years. “Your head is still fucked.”

“Hey!” Sam protested. “At least my body isn’t breaking down.”

“Shut up, fucker.” Dean glared at his leg. He still walked with a bit of a limp and it hurt like a mother when the weather turned cold.

“A couple of weeks,” Sam promised. “Then we can get back out there.”

Dean nodded as they hit the winding road up to Rufus’ cabin. “Still have a lot of shit to do.” He knew they had to take care of the world. All the fucking time. But right now he was just tired of it.

“Cas told you that he’d keep things under control.” Sam’s reminder made Dean shake his head.

“Benny will take care of Cas.” He grinned. Escaping Purgatory with a vampire as a tag-along had not prepared him for the awesome that the Benny/Castiel dynamic had become. “And that’s a sentence that I never thought I’d hear myself say.”

Sam laughed. “They make the Odd Couple look like the Brady Bunch.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Look at you getting all geek on me.”

Sam leaned his head back on the seat. “You’re a terrible influence.”

The rest of the drive was comfortably silent. Dean thought about everything that still needed to be done out there. He was restless and impatient but they needed this time-out.

“Stop it,” Sam told him without opening his eyes. “If we’re doing this then I don’t want your freaking out about what’s going on in the world.” 

“We don’t know anything about what’s going on in the world.” The TV set had exploded last night and Sam had decided that Egyptian cotton bedding was more important than TV.

“We’ll have to think up things to do.” Sam turned his head to look at Dean, one eye cracking open. “We can play cards or Twister. Scrabble, even.”

“Fuck you,” Dean said with no heat. “You have your laptop. We can look for…”

“Anime porn?” Sam suggested.

Dean snorted a laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “Haven’t needed any inspiration for a while now, Sammy.”

Sam reached over and squeezed Dean’s thigh. “Good to know,” he said and his voice dropped a notch lower. It made Dean shiver a little.

This whole thing with Sam still made him feel a little weird sometimes. It didn’t seem to bug Sam like it did him. The first time they’d kissed Dean had freaked out and run. Sam had tracked him down two days later and told him to pull his head out of his ass.

_”This was inevitable, Dean.” Sam had just looked at him. “We’ve been inevitable since the day you carried me out of that burning house.”_

_“We’re brothers, Sammy, it’s not natural.” Dean had tried to let Sam go, tried to let him off this dangling hook that made no fucking sense to anyone but them._

_“I’ve loved you all my life.” Sam’s simple words had stopped Dean’s heart. “You’re my brother, my best friend, the first face I see in the morning and the last face I see at night. The co-dependency thing is who we are.” He shrugged. “We’re not going to have kids so who’s going to give a shit?”_

_“Been reading a little too much of that fan-fiction, Sammy?” Dean had used his words to keep Sam at bay, give him a chance._

_“It’s not fiction if it’s real.”_

And that had been that.

Since then, they were together in every sense of the word. Losing Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Rufus, Dad - hell, everyone they cared about - had made them even more aware of seizing the moment.

“Carp deedum,” Dean muttered.

“What?” Sam looked at him, an eyebrow raised.

“You know, grab the moment by the balls?”

Sam snickered and squeezed Dean’s thigh again. “Carpe diem, you moron. Seize the day.”

“Oh fuck you, Princess Perfect.” But Dean was grinning too.

“In a bit,” Sam agreed, mouth curved in a smile. 

Just like that, Dean was hard and aching. “I hate you so much right now.”

Sam’s eyes roved lazily over Dean. “No you don’t.” He sounded disgustingly assured and Dean wanted to do something to take that smirk off his face.

Like kiss him.

He pulled up in front of the cabin and clambered out of the car. “Move your ass,” he ordered Sam.

Sam’s long, lean, lovely length unfolded from the passenger seat and the little shit stretched luxuriously. “In a hurry to get inside?” The sliver of toned stomach was distracting.

Dean wasn’t fooled by the innocent tone and he pointed an accusing finger at Sam. “You don’t get to wind me up without…” He stopped, not sure just how to finish that.

“Unwinding you?” Sam offered.

“Yes!” Dean watched Sam’s eyes go dark.

“Take your shirt off.” 

Dean’s automatic response to a Winchester order was obedience. He’d pulled his t-shirt over his head before he was even aware of it. 

“Good boy.” Sam’s voice was honey-sweet and low. “Now why don’t we take this inside?”

Sam turned on his heel and headed into the cabin, new bedding under his arm. Dean watched him walk away, amazed again that somehow he’d managed to do something right in this world. 

Even though most of the world would think it was wrong.

He’d learned not to give a shit.

He followed Sam inside and stood in bemusement at the door to the bedroom.

Sam was carefully making up the bed. Long fingers tucking the edges of the sheets under the mattress at precise angles. Palms smoothing out the cool white fabric so that there was no crease to be seen. Pillows encased in crisp cotton and plumped out, placed carefully back on the bed.

“What are you waiting for?” Sam’s question startled him and Dean looked away from the operation and met Sam’s gaze. 

“Watching the show?” Dean voiced it as a question and the corner of Sam’s mouth ticked up.

“Get on the bed, Dean.” The instruction was even and precise. “And lose the clothes.”

Dean had learned to listen when Sam spoke in that tone of voice. It had saved him many times. It was the same tone that Sam had used when he’d promised Dean it would be okay just before he’d jumped into the Pit with Lucifer riding shotgun. 

Sam meant action.

Dean hustled to obey. He toed off his boots and wriggled out of his jeans, keeping a careful eye on the line of Sam’s back. He could see the plaid shirt being unbuttoned, coming off and then the curve of Sam’s spine as he pulled off his t-shirt.

He must have made a noise because Sam swung his head around and met his eyes. “Bed.”

Dean was on his back on the bed before Sam finished speaking. And then he felt it. The smooth rub of high quality cotton branding the heat of his skin. He moaned and writhed a little on the mattress. “This feels un-fucking-believable,” he told Sam.

And Sam was there suddenly. Big, solid, real and so utterly ridiculously precious that it still took Dean’s breath away at the thought of how they might have missed out on this.

“Told you it would be worth the money.” Sam’s face was smug and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be an asshole, Sammy. You were right, let it go.”

Sam snorted and straddled Dean’s thighs in one smooth motion. Dean sucked in a breath at the feeling of Sam against him, surrounding him. “I’m not letting anything go, you ass. I never get to gloat when I’m right.”

Sam’s hands were on Dean’s chest, fingers playing across the skin stretched over Dean’s ribs. “No more burgers.”

Dean glared at him. “You telling me I’m fat?” Dean prided himself on having an awesome metabolism. Even though he’d maybe gained a few pounds. Of muscle.

“I don’t want you to have a heart attack.” Sam’s eyes were following the movement of his fingers, tracking the spots that made Dean squirm tonight. 

“I’m sure one of the shitheads we hunt will get me long before a heart attack, dude.” Dean tried to keep it light but Sam’s touch was distracting.

Then he saw the flat silver disk over Sam’s right nipple. “What the fuck?” He sat up, almost dislodging Sam.

Sam moved back, settled on Dean’s thighs and let Dean touch his chest. “It’s a nipple shield,” he said.

Dean’s finger traced the delicate silver work. “It looks like…” he trailed off and lifted his other hand to touch the tattoo on the upper left hand of Sam’s chest.

“I had it made to look like an anti-possession symbol.” Sam’s eyes were hot as he watched Dean.

“How does it stay on?” Dean asked, leaning nearer. He spotted the barbell piercing through Sam’s nipple that the shield was attached to. 

“You like it?” The question was weighted and Dean looked up to meet Sam’s gaze. He thought that maybe Sam wasn’t just asking about the design.

“Yeah,” he admitted, letting his voice go raspy and letting Sam see just how turned on his was. “It’s fucking hot.”

Sam lunged forward then, pushing Dean down and back into the heavenly soft sheets and kissed him hard. “Got it for you,” Sam told him between kisses. “Wanted to see what you’d do.”

Dean put one hand on Sam’s shoulder and pushed Sam’s hair back with the other. He wrapped his legs around Sam’s waist and pulled him in close. Let Sam feel what he did to him. “Less talking, more action,” he said and rolled them over so that all those miles of golden skin and sleek muscles were beneath him.

He leaned down and put his mouth over the nipple shield. Sam shivered at the touch of teeth to metal. Dean bit gently at the barbell holding the jewellery in place and Sam shuddered. “Does it hurt?” he asked, pulling back.

Sam shook his head. “Feels fucking amazing.”

Dean bent to his task again, hands moving restlessly over Sam’s skin as he sucked and bit at the shield. He was barely aware of Sam moving beneath him until he felt fingers pressing at his hole. He lifted his head. “Yes.”

It was all the invitation Sam needed as he reached over to the table next to the bed and grabbed the lube. He messed it over his hand and fingers, shaking as he squeezed it, and Dean scooped some of it onto his own fingers.

Then he reached behind himself and pushed a finger into his own hole, sucking in a breath at being breached. He dropped his forehead onto Sam’s chest when he felt Sam’s finger push in alongside his own.

“Too much?” Sam’s voice was a harsh whisper in the silence of the room.

Dean shook his head, forehead still against Sam’s chest. “No,” he said and raised his head to reach for Sam’s mouth. “Never too much, never enough.”

Soon Sam had two fingers inside Dean and it was almost painful but Sam knew the right spot now, the place that set Dean’s nerve endings jangling and dancing. Then Sam pulled his fingers out, pushed Dean’s hand away and he pressed into Dean in one long, slow glide.

It _was_ too much and not enough. Dean dug his fingers into Sam’s skin, bit down and his teeth met metal. Sam’s cock burned inside him, hot and huge and just the right side of pain.

Sam’s hands were holding Dean open as he fucked into Dean, hips jerking up and back in a rhythm that they’d somehow always known.

Dean felt his orgasm start in his toes, each muscle clenching and squeezing and shaking until it felt like every molecule in his body was shaking apart. He shouted his release into Sam’s skin, falling onto Sam as he came in thick streaks over Sam’s belly and chest.

Sam bucked up, coming into and around Dean like an avalanche, fingers bruising Dean’s skin with marks that would stay for days. It wasn’t something Dean was proud of, but having Sam’s mark on him made what they had real, visible to everyone. It meant that what they were wasn’t hidden.

Sam was gasping and softening inside Dean, slipping out in a mess of come and sweat.

“Gross,” Dean made a face into Sam’s neck as he felt his ass leaking fluid. “Seriously. What is your problem with wearing a condom, dude? So much less mess.” He didn’t want to move, but he didn’t want to lie here covered in his and Sam’s come.

He shuddered as Sam pressed a finger inside him again. Dean felt his muscles clench around the intrusion. “I like how it feels.” Sam sounded as wrecked as Dean felt. “Like I’m part of you.” That one long finger found Dean’s prostate and despite the fact that he’d just come his brains out, sparks skittered behind Dean’s eyes.

“I can’t,” he told Sam but his hips moved of their own volition.

Sam pulled out again and Dean felt empty. He hated that this thing with him and Sam made him feel so much like a teenaged girl sometimes. 

“You okay?” Sam asked and Dean rolled off Sam to fall onto his back at Sam’s side.

“I’m fine,” Dean said and tried to glare at Sam. “I’m not a girl, Sammy; your giant cock won’t break me.”

Sam laughed then, a carefree happy sound that Dean hadn’t heard in a very long time. “You’re such a jerk,” Sam told him.

Dean let his mouth curve in a smile. “Takes a jerk to know a bitch, bitch.” He pulled Sam close for a kiss and leaned to whisper in his ear. “You are going to wash these fucking sheets by hand, by the way. They cost me a fucking fortune.”

Sam laughed even harder, shoving his face into the curve of Dean’s neck. Dean wrapped an arm around Sam’s shoulders and thought this thing with them - whatever the fuck it was – was not wrong or too much. 

It was their fucking salvation.


End file.
